3 A.M.--(_From the American, Consul_.)--Yesterday a Cuban boy threw a
stone at a dog belonging to one of the volunteers. The dog ran away. All
is quiet in the city, and elsewhere on the island.

At this point we were compelled to go to press. The above dispatches,
however, furnish the latest and only reliable intelligence from Cuba.

* * * * *

[Illustration: ONE VIEW OF THE QUESTION.

_Nervous Man_. "UP FOUR FLIGHTS OF STAIRS, AND THROUGH NO END OF CROOKED
PASSAGES. HOW AM I TO GET OUT IN CASE OF FIRE?"

_Polite Waiter_. "NO OCCASION WHATEVER FOR ANXIETY, SIR; THE HOUSE IS
FULLY INSURED."]

* * * * *

A Good Turn Meant.

THERE is some talk of reviving the Tournament in this region, and the
young men are expected to show their skill in "riding at the ring." If
our young men were to put any number of good sharp lances through a few
of our City Rings, they would be noble and chivalrous fellows, surely.

* * * * *

The Dumb Beasts' Friend.